


Leviathan of the Void, Spirit of the Deep

by WaywardLeviathan



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, a lot less fluffy, bonus if you find it though, but still pretty fluffy, corvo is confused, dunno why, i put a ts eliot reference in here, nerds chilling in the void, rewritten, the outsider is smitten af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 04:52:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3556724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardLeviathan/pseuds/WaywardLeviathan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Here he was; right where he always was. The only place the Leviathan could be counted on being. Corvo took a tentative step forward, and breathed. Though the Outsider did not say it, the man could all but imagine those words that were both his uprising and downfall. "My dear Corvo...'"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leviathan of the Void, Spirit of the Deep

**Author's Note:**

> Yo! I wrote a thing at one in the morning. Takes place a few weeks after Emily is restored to the throne.
> 
> EDIT: I have rewritten most of this piece in light of my writing skills having improved and more information about the two characters in general. I feel I wasn't proud of this anymore because a lot of the information was inaccurate and I couldn't even recognize it as mine anymore.

        Corvo was never startled to find himself in this place. They called it the end of all things, and the beginning. Buildings were floating above what could only be described as an empty, desolate void, for that is exactly what it was. They were in various stages of disrepair, and some even had a few corpses scattered about, and he could all but hear the distinct scuffling of rats feet on broken glass. 

        He even found himself recognizing a few buildings. There was a bakery that used to reside on the waterfront, a fraction of the old commerce building, and—heartbreakingly enough—his childhood home. Despite the dreary surroundings, he was as completely at home here as the one he sought.  The Outsider, called Leviathan of The Void, Spirit of the deep. 

        Corvo was walking, that much for sure, but without thought or direction. He just continued along the broken and crumbling path as new portions appeared out of the darkness. The meaning behind his actions was a mix between his own and the god that this place was domineered by, and this meaning slowly began to drown him like the sea. It was not a warm, tepid sea like the shores of Karnaca he couldn’t help but remember fondly despite all that was, but a shivering, raging hurricane that tore its way into the very depths of his being. 

        Though the words remained unsaid—they had no place here—he could feel them ferociously consuming his mind. "Find me," they all but screamed at him, and so he set off to do just that. 

        After what could have possibly been an eternity, mere seconds, or anything falling between the crag of their difference, a being appeared before him: The Outsider. He was otherworldly, and yet so very familiar. That gaunt, thin frame was drenched in seawater and smelled of brine and ice. His otter-black eyes beheld all that was, is, and could be and _oh_ , did it show. There was a palpable weight, a weariness held upon his shoulders and Corvo marvelled at how he managed to bear it. 

        Here he was; right where he always was. The only place the Leviathan could be counted on being. Corvo took a tentative step forward, and breathed. Though the Outsider did not say it, the man could all but imagine those words that were both his uprising and downfall. 

        "My dear Corvo..." 

        In their place, The Outsider, wreathed in shadows, touched the ground with worn, tattered leather boots. Each footfall was measured, calculated, and nary a sound was heard. Corvo’s breath hitched as the god stalked ever closer, and that damning gaze locked with his. His pupils blew wide until only a sliver of that rich, mud-brown could be seen. For a moment, he felt he could see a thousand infinities, and it was absolutely intoxicating. He just barely noticed a grin forming on The Outsider’s face. 

        Finally, an ethereal sound broke out above the distant singing reminiscent of runes and bone charms ever present in The Void. It took him a moment to realize that The Outsider was laughing. It was soft, high, airy, and reminded Corvo of just how young he must have been before becoming as he is, this eternal state. Though over and done with in an instant, Corvo was filled with a myriad of emotions. Joy, melancholy, and dread swirling around in his head. His blood ran cold, and his arms and neck prickled from the rising of hairs. 

        It took more effort than he cared to admit, but Corvo managed that final stride forward. They were now nose-to-nose, and The Outsider inclined his head, devilish grin fading to something softer and at least semi-recognizable as being once human. Corvo then dared as few have dared before, and stole a single kiss. A moment later and Corvo had drawn backwards. The god looked on with wide eyes, but the smile never faded. 

        A striking chill grazed his cheek as The Outsider held a hand to it. He gave Corvo a peck on the cheek, and a black mist permeated through his vision. The hum of The Void grew deafening as the mist thickened, and as his body grew numb he swore he could hear The Outsider’s voice. The sound, however, drowned out whatever he might have said. Corvo awoke in his private quarters in Dunwall Tower and all was still, silent. 

 

* * *

 

_ Spirit of the Deep, Siren of the Dreams. _

_ I walked for hours along the coast, leaving Dunwall behind me until the lament of the waves drowned all other feeling. I wept, knowing you would not come to me, my love. _

_ You rule my dreams, where I behold with senses I do not possess in waking life the dark splendor of your home in the deep. There the ocean rests on your back like a sleeping child on his father's shoulders. _

_ In these sleepless nights of despair, you appear to me not as the mighty leviathan, but as a young man, with eyes as black as the void. _


End file.
